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Peeta's Honeymoon Kit Part III

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Part Three

Peeta's POV

Katniss and I manage to escape through the end of the receiving line amidst a chorus of cheers and crude suggestions. Prim uncovers her ears long enough to hug Katniss and then me, while Mrs. Everdeen pretends she isn't crying again. Wedding guests throw ticker tape made from shredded confidential paper by the handful. Effie, in her new role as wedding planner, says it's the only way they can recycle them. The tiny pieces keep sticking to my lips, eyelashes and hair while I shake hands with our friends. Before we can get sucked back into the fray in the conference room converted into a banquet hall, I hook Katniss's elbow and we're out of here.

They give us a head start back to the flat, which is kind. In Twelve, merchant families have a tradition of stealing the bride or the groom if they're caught on the way back from the Justice Building. I sort of hoped that this tradition wouldn't carry over, but my brothers are full of shenanigans, so I'm not taking any chances. We make it down the corridor without getting molested, almost to the lift we'll take from Level 1 down to Level 6.

Well, okay. I take a small chance and drag Katniss into a service hallway. We take turns brushing off ticker tape, first from her hair, then trying to get it out of my suit. Paper falls around us like snow we trample under our feet.

"Did you get everything?" she asks, turning around for me to see.

"Not quite." I start by kissing off a speck of frosting from her lips. But no one's around so I gently pin her against the wall, nuzzling her neck. She pulls me closer by my belt loops. I groan into the loose curls of her hair.

"S-shh," she giggles, which is definitely the result of the champagne punch. Then she frowns a little. "Do we go back and mingle with the guests?" she asks glumly.

"Not us." I don't even consider it. "Honeymoon's started, Mrs. Mellark. It's every man for himself."

Katniss's head turns toward the main corridor a second before I hear it. Voices carry down the hallway toward us. I'm pretty sure I hear Bran's.

"Time to disappear," I say, backing off of her. She hikes the full skirt of her dress up around her knees and she sets off at a run, dragging me, stumbling down the hallway behind her. Maybe I've had too much champagne punch too. I drag my feet as we reach the lift.

Katniss frowns back at me impatiently. "Peeta?"

I clear my throat. "Uh, we have to do this right." She scowls a little because she doesn't know what I'm talking about. So, I hold out my arms. "Jump up."

She balks and her eyes look back and forth to see if anyone's around to watch us. "Why?"

I put my arms down, then scratch my head. "The groom carries the bride over the threshold. I guess I could piggyback you there, but I think this is the more traditional way."

"I've never heard of this tradition," she says, crossing her arms protectively over her middle.

"Finnick told me about it." Which is true. He knows all about romantic customs. And now I know way more about Finnick than I ever wanted to. But this one sounds fun and half of the time, Katniss is carting me around. I step closer and stroke her cheek. "Humor me?"

"Is your leg up to it?" she asks her shoes. At least, that's what she's looking at.

Is my leg up to it? Sure. If not, there's a roll of duct tape with my name on it, compliments of the Hawthorne boys. But Katniss is a toothpick. I've carried around bags of flour heavier than she is. And besides, this prosthetic leg's going to outlast me, if we're honest.

"Sure, sure."

Katniss uncrosses her arms. "All right, fi—"

I sweep her off her feet, while she yelps and grabs my neck. I get a face full of fabric for my efforts.

"Help."

"Sorry, stupid tulle," she stammers, trying to squash down the layers of scratchy material. We pause for a moment to absorb the fact that she knows the name of the fabric. Sheepishly, she resumes muttering, "Cinna's fault… perfect dress, but totally impractical…look like a cupcake."

"You look perfect," I tell her, slowly carrying her into the lift. Katniss punches the floor button for me. "I almost fell over when you walked down the aisle with your mom."

Katniss blushes and bites the side of her lip. I don't think she'll ever be comfortable with compliments, but we've got a long time to practice. Then she says with a smirk, "Was that before or after you started crying?"

"I had something in my eyes," I protest.

"Right." She tilts her nose upward in that superior way she used to in our first Games when we went hunting. Er, when she went hunting and I just made a lot of noise and pestered her.

We keep the banter up because it seems to make her comfortable, but I feel like a bundle of restless energy. We can't get to our quarters soon enough.

At Level 6, I squeeze through the lift doors and take the right side toward our door. 651. My arms are filled with my bride and her dress, so Katniss has to unlock the keypad. The door slides open, but I pause and Katniss gives me a worried look. "Are you okay?"

"Sure, yeah," I tell her, but I swallow nervously. "Uh, I just wanted to say, good luck with the marriage, Katniss."

"Good luck, Peeta," she replies, giving me one of her rare smiles. "Want me to shake your hand?"

"Cheeky." Unable to help myself, I kiss her on the nose, which always makes her scowl.

"All right," she says. Moment's over. "Now maybe we should get inside before someone sees us acting like fools."

"Right you are." I carry her over the threshold and set her down in the dark, subdivided room that serves as a kitchen, living room, and well, whatever else we need it for. I find the master switch and lamps in this room and our bedroom turn on. "So…what now?" I ask, removing my tie.

Katniss raises a brow, attempting for cool and aloof, but her skin is warm all over. "Cards?"

"Cards? Ha. Funny, Everdeen…um, Mellark." I've been waiting for this moment for nearly six months. More if you count the time before we were engaged. And all the time I spent being in love with her...which would bring the total count to...a very long time. "Try again, sweetheart."

I lean in to kiss her, but she jumps away from me like I'm on fire, which is true, but not in a literal sense. "I need to change out of this dress," she says.

"O-kay," I drawl slowly. I've waited this long, I can wait a couple more minutes.

Offering me a weak smile, she disappears into my, correction, our room. I watch her through the open door as she fishes out a white pasteboard box from the closet. Then she escapes into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. I decide to be productive during my time alone. Retrieving the champagne from Effie which has been chilling in the refrigerator, I pause at the sight of a pastry box I know for a fact wasn't here when I had to vacate the apartment yesterday so Katniss could start moving in without me seeing her. Effie forbade it. Capitol custom, she said. It's amazing how much of our wedding turned into a hodge-podge of traditions. I guess that's Thirteen for you.

I grab two glasses, but only fill one. I drink that down and pour another. I'm looking forward to this, but I'm also nervous.

Fortified with champagne, I get ready for bed too. At least, that's why I assume she's changing. For bed. I don't bother closing the bedroom door while I carefully take off my jacket, dress shirt, and pants. I pull open my underwear drawer and immediately slam it shut again. Wait a minute. Slowly, I ease the drawer open and take another look. Yeah, that tangled pile of lace does not belong to me and wasn't there yesterday. I hook a black panty with my finger and lift it up for inspection. I send a prayer of thanks to whomever's listening for Katniss's friends, because I'm pretty damn sure she'd never buy something like this for herself.

The sound of fabric rustling against the bathroom door brings me back to the task at hand. I throw on fresh boxers and my most romantic pair of flannel pajama bottoms. The ones with no holes in them.

I check my teeth in the dresser mirror, then scope out my armpits for any offensive odors. Should I put a shirt on? Eh, why bother? I guess I'm all set and am about to decide if I should wait in the living room or on the bed, when my eyes light upon the nightstand.

There's something I forgot. I keep my eye on the bathroom door while I slowly inch around the bed, just in case Katniss jumps out unexpectedly. I know she's kind of shy about, well, nudity. I'd hate to burn her retinas on our honeymoon if she came out at the wrong time, unprepared. I'm not spending our honeymoon with a backpack over my groin. Better take it slow and spring it on her at the last moment. When I reach the nightstand, I pull open the shallow drawer looking for my stash of…

Nothing. Nothing? But…my fingers scrabble over the wood bottom, reaching for the very back. I find nothing but dust, an old receipt, and a provocative picture I drew of Katniss, which I should probably destroy before she finds it.

Although, it's a really good drawing—no, mind on the present, Mellark. Pictures won't do you much good when Katniss finds out there's nothing between the two of us and a herd a children if I don't find the condoms.

I gulp…or worse…she won't…at all. Even though it's our honeymoon.

Okay, don't overreact. Think. Condoms don't just vanish. Well, not usually.

Okay, okay. Where else could they be in the apartment.

I check under the pillows, the mattress, the dresser drawers and our closet. It occurs to me that Katniss spent yesterday and this morning moving her stuff in. (Which explains why my clothes aren't sorted by shade anymore, because hers are shoved in at random). I mean, she could have put them anywhere. Haymitch said that after Effie moved in, he couldn't find anything anymore. Like his liquor. That's probably a good thing in his case. But this could be a disaster.

"Uh, Katniss?" I call.

"I'm not ready!" she squeaks through the door. Squeaks? The girl who took on President Snow is nervous about tonight? Something that doesn't involve death, starvation, bloodshed or cameras?

I try to mellow out my voice. "It's not that…take your time." Please. Until I get this sorted out. "Uh…you didn't clean out my nightstand did you?"

"No. I haven't touched it."

If Katniss didn't touch them, who did? I mean, I'm pretty sure I didn't accidentally walk into someone else's flat and put my condoms in someone else's drawer. Then a nasty thought niggles its way through my mind. Someone else might walk into someone else's flat to steal condoms. "Did you happen to let anyone in here yesterday after I left?"

"Just your brothers."

Just my brothers?My stomach feels like it drops all at way down to my ankles. Gnatpucky!

"Why would you—," I breathe for a moment to get the shrillness out of my voice. "I mean, what did they want?"

She replies, but it's muffled. The conversation through the door is starting to grate on my nerves. Two hours into our marriage and there's already a door between us. "What was that, Katniss?"

"They dropped off a cake, I think. I don't know," she says. "Annie and Prim were dragging me off to that pedicure thing. Bran offered to lock up for me."

I sit on the bed and choke. Bran wouldn't do that to me. Would he? After I expressly forbade them from delivering that cake to the bachelor party or to my wife, he'd still do it. And then he'd sabotage me? Leven would never do something like that without Bran goading him into it. What the hell? I slam the small drawer closed with my foot. My hands form into the fists I'd like to use on my brothers right now. Should have known that they'd pull something more on me.

All right. It's okay. There's one backup plan. In my wallet. Just in case Katniss and I, you know, couldn't wait between the ceremony and the cake reception.

I dig out my wallet from my trousers, flip past the picture of Katniss, past the ration tickets, to the secret pocket, slip my fingers inside and pull out a…piece of paper? I unfold the square of sturdy cardstock. Scribbled across, it reads,

IOU.

Thnx, G.H.

I owe you – Thanks, G...H...Got Haymitch? no...Gale Hawthorne!

The hell? Is everyone conspiring to ruin this moment? Yeah, because I've only been on the verge of death, captured by the Capitol, and all for the love of Katniss. No big deal. Fine, humiliate me with bizarre golden skirts, magic paint, and whatever. Steal my condoms. I'm a man. I can handle it. I just want to know how Gale knew about my secret stash, how he managed to pick my pocket? And what could he possibly need a condom for? A water balloon fight? Last I heard, Madge has been pretty withholding. Which must be pretty hard on a slag-heap champion like Hawthorne.

As a last resort, I trudge back into the living room, then to the kitchen. Grabbing a kitchen chair, I haul it over to the stove and climb up. This is probably the most useless cabinet in the entire kitchen. Too small for storage of dishes or cookware, and too high for convenience. Still, it's a pretty good hiding spot for unwanted and embarrassing gifts, which I haven't had time to deal with properly yet. I open the small cupboard doors and toss out the boxes and bags onto the counter.

I walk past the gifts, heading for the fridge. First things first, I open the pastry box and my suspicions are confirmed. An anatomy lesson in cake. How my brothers got cake pans in that shape, I'll never know. To add insult to injury, it's not even chocolate.

The cake goes down the incinerator, and the bottle of champagne goes into a bucket of ice. I reach for what is now my third glass and start pulling out my survival items one by one, hoping maybe that somewhere inside there's a condom tucked in. So, let's see, I now have sugar cubes, a net, length of rope, jars of paint, and of course duct tape. My honeymoon survival kit. An eclectic assortment of gifts from a confederation of idiots.

And then there's Cinna's gift, still kept carefully in its box. I actually have high hopes for that one. I'm about to open the boxes when I hear the soft patter of feet over the linoleum. I almost startle out of my skin, and my eyes dart over to my new bride.

"What are you doing out here?" she asks.

"Er." I blink at her stupidly, taking in her long, bare legs and slowly working my way upward. Her face is free of makeup and her long hair tumbles loosely down her back. She clutches a silky black robe tightly around herself. It wouldn't take much at all to get it to slip off her shoulders if I-

Oh man. I have to hold that thought. I have to tell her that we're not protected, and as far as I know, she isn't using an alternative.

"Peeta?" She waves her hand in front of my face. "Are you having a seizure? Your eyes look funny."

I blink and hope the glazed look goes away. "Uh..." Seizure? I shake my head.

"What's that?" she points to the row of objects on the counter.

Right, the honeymoon survival kit. "Oh, this stuff is just, um…" I glance at the items again, deciding that my pure Katniss probably isn't ready for the true meaning behind the gifts. "Well, the rope is to tie things up." Like Katniss if she decides to bolt or throw another backpack on me. "The sugar cubes are for tea; the net is for fishing...for cave trout." I lift up the paint from my brothers, wondering how to communicate the function of this particular kind of paint, without lying or telling the truth at the same time. "And these are for...uh...embossing?"

Katniss's eyebrows pinch together. "And the duct tape?"

"Minor...repairs." Yeah, I really hope that Gale's not right about my leg. I hadn't even thought about the possibility of my leg falling off until last night. I stayed awake way too long after the party, raking through the book from Haymitch, looking for possible alternatives in case something like that should happen. Fortunately, lovemaking's pretty adaptable, I learned. "You never know when something will need to be put back together. Heh."

At first, I don't think she believes the reinterpretation of the gifts, but then Katniss cinches the belt a little tighter around her waist, nodding slightly in approval. "At least you got things that are actually practical."

I clear my throat, coughing through the shock of her easy acceptance - and just how wrong she is. "It's to be expected," I fudge. "They're guys after all. What did you get?"

Katniss shakes her head, a small look of disgust on her face. "Stupid stuff."

"It can't be that bad," I say. And hope.

Katniss picks up the rope and recoils it into neat, uniform lengths. Up close I can smell something sweet that I would mistake for perfume if I didn't know Katniss better. "You'd be surprised," she mutters.

"How bad can it be?" I tease, plucking a strand of her hair. "After all, Johanna Mason wasn't invited."

Katniss's eyes widen, and then narrow, clearly not enjoying any thought connected to Johanna Mason. She still hasn't forgiven her for the elevator incident.

"I don't want to talk about Johanna Mason," she says, giving me the stink eye. "Especially tonight."

"Alright, we can talk about something else." Or just not talk. That's good too.

I offer her the other glass of champagne and steer her over to the couch. She tries to sit on the opposite side, but I rectify that pretty quick. A few drops of her champagne spill on my chest when I pluck her off the cushion, but otherwise, she's neatly situated on my lap.

Her robe gapes open, revealing an old standard-issue tank top and a pair of my boxers she filched a few months ago. Sticking out from her tank top is a black lace strap. My finger slides beneath it, plucking the elastic.

"This is all they gave you for your bachelorette party?" I ask.

Katniss glances down at her bra strap and her workaday pajamas with a frown. "Well, no," she admits.

"What other gifts did you get?" I mean, someone must have given her that lacy underwear I found.

"Besides Quintus jumping out of the cake?" she mutters.

"What?" I sputter. You mean you weren't the chief source of amusement?

"Relax. He only recited poetry," Katniss says. Then she blushes and admits, "I got a few other things from the girls."

"Anything you liked?" I ask, aiming for casual. "And when were you planning to use them?"

"You want to see one?" Katniss asks tentatively while she plays with the tie on her gaping robe.

Yeah, it's only our honeymoon. But that's Katniss. Ornamentation's not her thing. She probably can't understand why couples would care about garments you can really only wear appropriately in one situation. So, I shrug, trying to act less eager than I am. "Sure, why not?"

Katniss swallows, but gives a terse nod, balling her fists at her side like a good soldier. "Alright, just give me a second." Then she jabs me in the chest with her bony finger. "And don't come in."

I cross my heart. "I won't. Baker's honor."

Katniss rolls her eyes, getting up to go, but I hold her wrist. "Wait. Put some of this on it first." I run back to the counter where I left Cinna's gift. I pull the jar out, tossing the box behind me. I hand it to her. "Sprinkle some of this onto it."

She looks suspicious. "What's in the jar?"

"It's our gift from Cinna," I tell her honestly. It dissipates any doubts from her mind. Cinna's trustworthy.

She holds the jar under my nose. "This goes on my clothes?"

"That's what it says on the box." I grin, daring her to chicken out. She makes a face, then leaves me standing alone in the living room.

The door closes behind her while I settle onto the couch, my curiosity now piqued by all of Katniss's hemming and hawing. But then that niggling doubt creeps back into my mind now that she's gone. Maybe asking her to put on her lingerie was a mistake.

What am I going to do about our little problem? My brothers want to lure me out, so I can't pop out to visit the pharmacy on Level 2. Who knows were my brothers are lurking - and there's no way they wouldn't be if they went through all this trouble to steal my stash. I'm not leaving so they can either waylay me or sneak in and steal my bride and take her barhopping on Level 4 before I can get back.

After about three minutes of meditating on the situation, Katniss interrupts, reawakening all of my curiosity and seriously weakening my resolve to do the right thing.

"You all set?" I ask with rising expectations.

"Not yet," she calls out from behind the door. "Is the powder supposed to do something?"

Nuts. "I guess. Eventually." Then I have a good idea to speed things up. "Do you need me to help?"

"NO!" I hear on the other side of the bedroom door.

After another five minutes, I walk over and knock on the door. "Katniss, why is it taking so long?" I whine.

Katniss sounds like she's strangling herself with the lingerie, not wearing it. "Promise me you won't laugh."

I bang my head against the door. Did I mention I've been waiting for this moment for over three years?

"Come on," I groan. "I swear I won't laugh." Far from it. Not even if she comes out wearing a replica of Finnick's gold fishnet skirt.

The door suddenly opens, and I nearly stumble into Katniss. My hands go out by reflex, but she sidesteps me with a shriek. "What were you doing standing against the door?" she yelps.

"Guuhh?" I say, or something similar. All my mental faculties are on the fritz. Synapses in my brain come unsnapped. My mouth goes dry. Not hard to believe considering Katniss is standing in front of me covered in, well, almost nothing. And what little material she is wearing is see-through, in a smoky veil sort of way. An uneven kerchief hem flows down from her fitted bodice, barely covers the top of her thighs. It teasingly reveals so much, and obscures the essentials, making my fingers itch to remove it.

"What was that again?" Katniss's eyebrows raise, but I can tell she's fighting a smile.

I shake my head, trying to clear it. I'm supposed to be good with words. Eloquent.

Yeah. I've got nothing.

"You should see the other things they gave me." Katniss says wryly, filling in the silence. She seems to be gaining confidence as I fall to pieces.

"There's more?" I ask with an embarrassingly hopeful crack in my voice.

"Yeah." She rolls her eyes. "Want to see?"

I scratch the back of my neck. "On you?"

Katniss wrinkles her nose in distaste. "You really want me to try on more clothes right now?"

"Good point." She's supposed to be getting out of her clothes, not putting on more. I've got another idea. "I'd still like to see, though."

Katniss does that resigned sigh she keeps on reserve, but retrieves more pasteboard boxes from the closet. I take a seat on the bed and get a nice view when she bends over to pick them up off the floor. I'd whistle but my lips won't cooperate. And again, dry mouth. Then there's the comical moment when she realizes she's exposed and her hand flies to the back of her thighs to feel the smooth, bare skin where the fabric should be. Katniss snaps up straight with a deep blush burning across her cheeks, looking sheepishly over her shoulder to see if I noticed. Like I could help it. My eyebrow arches in a way that I hope is smug and not dopey. I stifle a laugh because she'll take it wrong.

Katniss sniffs and pretends it didn't happened. She lays the boxes on the bed and opens the top one, folding aside the tissue paper. I do the honor of pulling out a violet silk slip while Katniss nervously chews on her bottom lip.

"Well?" she asks when I don't say anything.

"Hmm." Then I throw the slip on the floor and purse my lips like I'm thinking. I mean, I am thinking. I mean. Yeah. "Not bad. Looks great with the carpet."

She gapes at me. "What?"

I reach for the next box and do the same with a turquoise corset. And the next outfit with the feathery stuff, until all the diaphanous, shiny, velvety nighties are strewn on the floor at the foot of our bed.

"Peeta, what are you doing?" Katniss cries, looking upset for someone who doesn't like to dress up. "You don't like them?"

"Of course I like them," I tell her. "I'm just putting them where they belong."

"Be serious," she scoffs, stepping around me to retrieve them. I stop her, though.

"Totally serious." I take her in my arms. Look her over. "Wow, I just—" I can't think of anything else to say. So my hand slips underneath her soft hair, gently cradling the back of her neck, and I kiss her. Slowly, she relaxes and it's just her and me, and my sweatpants and her nightie...I should tell her that I don't have anything to prevent baby Mellark Jr., but yeah, I'm already undressing her in my head and her lips are on my throat...

Her kisses wreak havoc on my conscience. As in, I had one. Until she kissed me. We trip toward the bed, collapsing onto the mattress, creasing the comforter. The boxes and our pillows join her gifts on the floor.

Hey, what do you know! After I try to slip the straps off her shoulders, I notice that the rest of the sheer material from her breasts to the hem bunched at the top of her thighs has started to glow a little, like if glitter had microscopic flames. Distracted, I stop kissing her and prop myself up on my elbows.

"What is it?" she asks, her dark eyes wide with surprise.

I reach the lamp and switch it off. The golden-orange and red pinpricks of light from Katniss's lingerie twinkle on the walls and ceiling. On my chest as I hover over her. Cinna's gift for the tributes he set on fire.

A strangled, frustrated growl escapes my throat. It's perfect. She's perfect. But we're screwed and I'm going to murder my brothers and Gale The-prick-thorne.

"What's wrong?" she asks. "You sound like you're in pain. Is it your leg?"

"No, it's not my leg." Why is everyone concerned about my leg? I collapse onto my back and rake my fingers through my hair. "Katniss, there's something I have to tell you and I don't think you're going to like it."

She sits up fast, twinkling like the night sky. "What is it?"

"I'm really sorry. My brothers stole all of my...," for some reason using the word right now seems crude. "We don't have any protection."

"Oh." Her eyes widen as my meaning hits home. "Ooh." Her teeth tug at the corner of her mouth as she processes the implications the hijacked condoms have on the rest of our evening. "Well, it's not like we haven't waited this long already." She tucks herself up next to me and yawns. "We'll just get some at the store tomorrow. I was feeling kind of tired anyway. It's been a long day."

That's it? I mean, it's not like I expected her to throw caution to the wind (though I was kind of hoping for it). But she could have at least shown some sadness and disappointment. Or anger and annoyance, which come so naturally for her. Instead, I get apathy? On my wedding night. I need another drink.

"Alright. Tomorrow. Good night." With a sigh, I push myself up and sit on the edge of the bed. My feet hang off the side of the mattress, just about to hit the floor when Katniss's laughter stops me. The sound catches me off guard, and I turn my head to glance over my shoulder. "What is so funny?"

"Poor Peeta." Katniss's fingers dip into the bodice of her slip and I catch myself licking my lips. She pulls out a square of plastic. "Will this do?"

The foil packaging glints from Katniss's nightie lights, like a bad Capitol commercial. Given all the strange things that have gone on in the past 48 hours, I half expect to hear a disembodied announcer-voice explain to me the benefits of this brand over its leading competitors. Or worse, an endorsement from Finnick Odair. I still can't seem to shake the image of him caressing the table and calling it Annie. Just moments after telling me I'm just like her.

Katniss misunderstands my continued silence and becomes flustered. "I found it taped to the bottom of the jar from Cinna," she stammers. Her grip on the square loosens, and my last hope for any action this evening wavers between her fingers and the floor, where it might be swallowed up forever. Can't take any chances. I snatch the square from her fingers.

"Only one?" I ask, wondering how many more she could fit in there.

"I think one is ambitious enough for now," she says reasonably.

"Know what? Doesn't matter," I say, turning the foil package over in my fingers. Thank you, Cinna. We're so naming our future son, whom we won't conceive tonight, after that man. Without him, I'd never survive this honeymoon. There wouldn't even be a honeymoon.

I reach for Katniss again. "Now, where were we?"
To be continued with the Epilogue!
© 2010 - 2024 MedeaSmyke
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brynbell's avatar
LOL!!! SINCE WHEN DID GALE NEED A CONDOM!!!!